


A Simple Matter of Quadrants

by Arathe



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Jealousy, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arathe/pseuds/Arathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave's had a thing for John since pretty much forever, but when John and Karkat become moirails he has a hard time seeing their relationship as anything other than typical human romance. John's oblivious, Karkat's not, and Dave is a jealous wreck.</p><p>Three years living with trolls, and Dave Strider is still dumber than a box of rocks where quadrants are concerned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ongoing fill for the Homestuck kink meme here: http://homesmut.dreamwidth.org/39135.html?thread=41122527#cmt41122527
> 
> It's probably obvious, but I'm handwaving time frames a little. Enjoy!

**John**

You stand on the deck with hands braced on cool metal, and you’re so excited you could scream. You almost do, the sheer giddy excitement almost too much to contain, but you’re not the only one on deck and you’d probably scare the consorts. So you settle on a grin so wide it almost hurts, and content yourself with with watching the meteor creep steadily closer. Which is a bit like watching the hour hand on the clock, honestly; you know it’s moving but you can’t seem to catch it in the act. Still, it’s hard to fight the urge to just watch.

“Twenty-three hours, seven minutes and eighteen seconds,” Davesprite says over your shoulder. You start, and he avoids getting clocked by your shoulder only just. You stick your tongue out and he just smirks, looping his tail around the railing and turning his attention to the looming meteor. He isn’t a Knight of Time anymore, technically, but that hasn’t stripped him of his scary-precise internal clock.

“Until we land?” you ask, kicking up a breeze in his direction just to ruffle his feathers. Literally. He pretends not to notice, but you can see the rippling twitch of muscle on his wing and call it a win.

“Yeah.” He cants a look at you. “Time would pass quicker if you didn’t stand out here watching it every free second.”

“I know.” You don’t actually like being on deck. The air is preternaturally still for a ship hurtling through space at the speed of crazy, and the lack of any current or movement is like an itch you can’t scratch. But the best view of the meteor is from right here, and as much as you’ve been trying to keep busy since it appeared a week ago, no bigger than a spec in the distance, you’ve found yourself gravitating towards the deck any time you have half a second to spare. Which is most of the time, honestly. There’s really not a lot to do around here. “I’m just excited. I get to see Dave! And the others,” you add a little belatedly.

There would have been a time where that declaration would have earned you a wounded look. A time before you and Davesprite had sat down for a serious heart to heart, before you’d apologized for being a thoughtless jerk. Now though, it only earns you an arched brow and an amused look your can feel from behind the shades. “What, one Strider not enough for you?”

“There’s no such thing as enough Strider,” you say, tossing him a grin and an eyebrow waggle for good measure.

He snorts a laugh. “Can’t argue with plain fact.” The amusement is brief, and as you watch him watching the meteor, you could swear he looks a little apprehensive.

“You’re not looking forward to it?” You’re almost certain he isn’t, although you aren’t sure why. Once you might have thought it was because of Dave, but he’s long since made his peace with that. Probably right around the time you got your head out of your ass and stopped treating him like a secondhand best friend, actually.

He’s so still and silent that for a minute you’re not sure he’s going to answer. Then, “She killed you.” His voice is toneless in that way it gets when he’s upset and trying not to be.

Your stomach twists at the reminder that he spent months in a timeline where you’d gone and gotten yourself squashed by a denizen. It’s not something he ever really talks about, and you know you’re going to have to tread carefully or he’s going to clam right up. “I’m sorry,” you say, gently as you can. It’s true. Everything he’s been through is because of you in a way.

He barks a harsh, wounded laugh that hurts to hear. “Don’t be. You might be a gullible idiot, but it’s not your fault.”

You try another tack. “Maybe Terezi will grow on you, once you meet her. She’s really not bad!” Dave certainly seems to like her enough, but you don’t say that.

Davesprite still isn’t looking at you. “You don’t forgive someone for killing your best friend.”

You try to imagine if your positions were reversed, if someone had tricked _Dave_ to his death, left you alone for months with only Rose for company until you could go back and set things right. Could you forgive that? God, you can barely fathom the idea of a world without Dave in it, so probably not. “Yeah. I guess you don’t.”

The two of you watch the meteor in companionable silence for a few minutes longer, before he unwinds from the railing and ruffles your hair. “Don’t stay up all night.”

You duck away from his hand and try to give him a dirty look. “It’s always night.”

“Don’t sass me, boy.” He punches you in the shoulder just hard enough to hurt.

You yelp and grab your arm theatrically, doing your best to stifle a grin. “Sorry, _Mom._ ”

“Damn straight you’re sorry.”

Davesprite leaves you to it, and in spite of what he’d suggested, you go back to watching the meteor anyway. You wish he was excited as you are, but you can understand why he’s not. Twenty-three hours, and then you’ll see Dave. You’ll get to hug your friends and meet Karkat face-to-face. You can’t help but wonder if he’s as shouty in person and he is in text, and you kind of hope so because it wouldn’t really feel like Karkat otherwise. After three long years, everyone’s going to finally, _finally_ be together.

You’re pretty sure this is going to be the longest twenty-three hours of your life.

 

**Dave**

The immense golden battleship looms overhead, hanging deceptively still against the black. You’ve all turned out for the show, even the Mayor, everyone hanging back from the projected landing site by a very respectable distance. Not that you doubt Jade’s ability to park that thing on a dime, but she’d probably appreciate not having to worry about squashing anyone.

“I’m looking forward to seeing them,” Rose says, calm as you please, like it’s been three weeks instead of three years.

“Yeah,” you reply, and she looks at you like she knows you’re nowhere near as chill as you’re playing at.

She’s right, because your thoughts this last week have been nothing but a litany of John, John, _John_ , and it makes you feel a bit like a preteen girl but hell if you can help it. You’d thought you’d gotten a handle on the John thing. You dated Terezi for a while, and maybe it hadn’t worked out, but you figured it had at least helped you sort your shit. Then the battleship had appeared, and your blinding crush on the dork had crawled out of whatever dark corner of your soul it’d been hibernating in and set up shop like it had never left. You’re finally going to see him, and you’ve never been so stoked because stupid feelings shit aside he’s your best bro, and three years is too long.

The battleship lurches suddenly, and with a change in pressure that makes your ears pop, it begins to descend. It touches down so gently that the ground barely shudders, and as you stare up and up, you realize the distance wasn’t quite as respectful as you thought. That ship is _huge._

There’s a flurry of activity on deck, and without waiting for the gangplank, a blue shape vaults over the side. Before you have time to parse what’s happening John barrels into you, knocking your shades askew as he picks you up in a crushing hug and actually _spins_ like you’re in one of Karkat’s stupid movies.

He sets you down with a smile that’s almost shy. “Hi, Dave.” His hands are still on your waist, and suddenly you want nothing more than to kiss his stupid, perfect face.

You are so, so fucked.

It takes you entirely too long to remember to fix your shades. “Hey,” you manage without sounding even a little breathless. Score one for Strider. You take a minute to study him from behind the safety of tinted glass. He’s taller than you are, but not by much. For some reason you half-expected him to still look thirteen, and it’s a little jarring to realize that he doesn’t. “Long time no see.”

“Hello, John,” Rose says. You’d completely forgotten she was there.

“Rose!” John’s hands fall from your waist, and you try not to miss them as he hugs Rose, hoisting her off her feet easily. Never let it be said that John Egbert didn’t give enthusiastic hugs. You do notice that she doesn't get the whole spin treatment, and if you feel a little pleased about that, who has to know?

“Hey.”

You’ve been so distracted by John that you hadn’t noticed anyone else. You’re not sure who you’re expecting to see when you glance over, but your feathery orange past-future self isn’t it. “Hey,” you say, masking your surprise. “Glad to see you’re okay.” You mean it. You’d lost track of him somewhere along the way, and you’re happy to see that he doesn’t look much worse for wear, conspicuously missing wing aside.

He accepts this with a placid nod. “Jade should be along in a minute, but John couldn’t wait.”

“Argh! What are you doing, you oaf? Put me down! Put me down!” Karkat’s getting the hoist-and-crush treatment now, and you have to smother a grin. He’s flailing at John’s arms to zero effect, and after a moment he gives up and just sort of hangs there like a surly ragdoll. When John finally sets him back on his feet, Karkat scowls with an air of wounded dignity and smooths the front of his shirt. “Assault on my person was _just_ the thing I was missing today,” he grumbles. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem!” John chirps, and Davesprite huffs a quiet laugh beside you. John glances in your direction and then he’s heading back your way, and for one awesome second you think you’re getting a second round of Hug Time with John Egbert, but then he tackles Davesprite with something more like a clothesline than a hug.

“Easy there, tiger,” he says, peeling John’s arm from around his neck. “Save the PDA’s for the new people, alright?”

John doesn’t seem the least bit put out, shooting a bright-eyed smile at you both before bounding off for Kanaya. “That kid is like a puppy on a caffeine high,” you comment. Kanaya looks completely resigned when John scoops her up, and the whole thing’s kind of hilarious because you’re pretty sure they’ve never even said two words to each other.

Davesprite’s watching you with a raised eyebrow, and you realize you’re staring at John with a dopey little smile. You do your best to school your expression, but it’s there’s really no point. Dude’s practically you, after all. “Still?” he asks.

Your first impulse is to deny it, but you’ve had a thing for John since long before the two of you went your separate ways, as it were, so why bother? You lift one shoulder in a careless shrug and hope he leaves it at that, because Rose is close enough to hear, and that is one thing you’ve actually managed to keep off her radar and you’d like it to stay that way.

“Hey, no judgement man. Just curious.” To your immense relief, he let’s the subject drop.

It isn’t long before Jade puts in a appearance and wow. Ears. Okay then. There’s got to be a story behind that worth hearing, pun totally intended. She kicks off another round of slightly more dignified hugs. “Looks like the band is back together,” you say as she throws her arms around your neck. She laughs and you hide a smile against her hair. Three more people have joined the party, and you haven’t been this happy in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, featuring Karkat 'let me explain you a thing' Vantas.

**John**

It takes you less time to settle in than you expect. The meteor turns out to be no better or worse than the ship. It has the same stagnant non-atmosphere that makes you feel a little crazy when you think about it too much, but now there are new people to talk to and hang out with, and that really helps. Which isn’t to say you don’t love your friends from the ship; you do! But after three years you’re pretty sure you were all getting on each others nerves a little.

It’s still ridiculously early when you give up and roll yourself out of bed, but there’s no way you’re getting back to sleep after that one. Nightmares, bluh. You were going to go to the roof and just chill for a bit, but you notice that Karkat’s up when you pass the common room, tucked up on the couch with a book in hand. So you make a detour, flopping over the arm of the couch and staring upside down at the cover. Huh. Those are some very, uh, scantily clad trolls right there. “Whatcha reading?”

“A book no one on this barren rock seems capable of appreciating except me.” Karkat pauses, then adds grudgingly, “And maybe Rose.” He looks down at you over the top of the book. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep. I get restless sometimes.” You like Karkat a lot, but you don’t really want to talk to him about your nightmares. Sometimes they’re about your dad, sometimes they’re about Jack. Tonight it was about all of your friends dropping dead one by one and you couldn’t lift a finger to save them. You’ve been having these nightmares for years, but you never really get used to them.

Karkat’s still watching you, expression crinkled in something that looks almost like concern, and it only just now occurs to you that Karkat’s pretty perceptive, and he can probably tell you’re full of crap. He snaps his book closed and you wait for him to press. Instead he asks, “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure!” You scoot upright as Karkat goes to pick something from the collection beside the television. You went rifling through them shortly after you arrived, but most of the movies were Alternian, which meant mile-long titles in font so small you couldn’t read them even if you spoke the language, so you’d sort of given up.

You’re going to watch an alien movie! How cool is that?

Pretty cool, as it turns out. Not as much action as you expected from a film set on an imperial battleship, but then there really isn’t much time for action between all the ridiculously complicated character relationships. You knew troll romance was kind of a complex subject, but holy crap.

You’re over halfway through the movie when Dave puts in an appearance. “Looks like Karkat’s finally gotten his stubby little claws in you,” he drawls, leaning over the back of the couch.

Karkat smacks him without taking his eyes off the movie. “Shut up, Strider.”

Dave leans in close to you and says in a stage whisper, “I’ll hold him off while you make a break for it.”

You grin up at him. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s actually pretty good so far! Even if it’s kind of confusing.”

“Confusing?” Karkat pauses the movie. “How are you confused? The whole thing is pretty straightforward; there’s not even any quadrant vacillation.”

Dave snorts. “That is definitely my cue to abscond.” He reaches out and puts a solemn hand on your shoulder. “Good luck, man.”

You stick your tongue out at his retreating back before answering Karkat. “No, it’s not that. I meant, I get the quadrants.” Mostly. You’re still having a hard time wrapping your brain around the hatelove thing to be honest. “I just mean I don’t get why when she was transferred to the new battleship they let her bring her moirail and not her matesprit. I mean, one quadrant isn’t any more important than the others, right?” At least in terms of the non-hate quadrants anyway. You’re still not entirely sure why the main character is so upset about leaving her kismesis when all they do is fight anyway, but you just file that under ‘incomprehensible troll things’ and leave it at that.

You kind of expect annoyance over your ignorance, but Karkat actually looks surprisingly pleased. “That’s a very intelligent question, Egbert.” He twists in his seat and shouts at the other room, “UNLIKE STRIDER, WHO ONLY ASKS STUPID SHIT LIKE, ‘WHY DOES NOBODY CARE THAT SHE’S DATING THREE PEOPLE?’”

The only response he gets is Dave’s arm through the doorway and a middle finger. Karkat turns back to you and rolls his eyes. You’re pretty sure that Dave and Karkat’s constant bickering might actually be your new favorite thing in the world. “Anyway,” he huffs. “To answer your question, it’s sort of yes and sort of no.”

He stretches out sideways, tucking icy troll feet under your thigh. You frown at him, but he pretends not to notice. “Ideally, you’d be right, at least on a personal level. I mean, it’s obviously going to vary from person to person and relationship to relationship, but in a perfect world no quadrant would be more important than any other. Functionally, it’s a different story.” He shrugs.

“Look at it from a logistical standpoint. You have a population of billions scattered across an enormous armada of everything from tiny supply shuttles to imperial battleships. All of these ships necessarily require a balanced crew complement with the requisite skills to keep the ship running smoothly, plus any threshecutioners or legislacerators or whatever else they might be transporting. Now,” he says, waving his hands enthusiastically. “Imagine trying to put together an effective personnel roster when you have to take into account all of the crew’s quadrants, and then all of their _quadrants’_ quadrants, and you’ll start to get an idea why keeping matesprits and kismeses together is a prohibitive pain in the ass.” He pauses, then adds, “I’m also reasonably sure that the Condesce doesn’t give a shit.”

Wow. Okay, put like that it does sound kind of impossible, and maybe a little sad? Being a troll must be depressing if you have to worry about your relationships breaking up every time you get transferred. “That sucks, but I guess it makes sense. So what makes moirails different?”

“Function!” You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen Karkat so animated over something without being angry, and it’s kind of fascinating. “Well, I mean obviously the concupiscent quadrants have their function too, and the party line is that you’re expected to be properly quadranted when the imperial drones come collecting, but everyone knows that’s not always practical. So as long as you can fill a pail when the time comes they tend to look the other way, even though genetic material produced from a proper quadrant is supposedly more potent, but whatever.”

You’re pretty sure you have no idea what he just said. What do pails and drones have to do with romance? “I don’t think I followed that?”

“Oh, uh.” Karkat’s face scrunches up a little in embarrassment. “Short version is that trolls reproduce by providing pails of genetic material from both concupiscent quadrants for the imperial drones to take to the Mother Grub.” He holds up a hand to forestall any questions. “If you want any more detail than that you’ll have to ask Kanaya because I am not having that conversation with you, Egbert.”

You’re pretty okay with that, because you’re not sure you _want_ any more detail. Trolls and humans sure are different! “Hey, wait a minute. Is that why you guys are so grossed out by buckets?” Wow, that would actually explain a lot.

“Ugh,” Karkat buries his face in his hands. “Can we not?”

“Sorry,” you say, smile tugging at your lips. The old bucket over the door prank suddenly seems like it’d be about a billion times more hilarious. “You were saying?”

Karkat huffs and gives you a dirty look. “Anyway. Moirails are different because they help keep each other sane and stable. And when one highblood in a bad bout of psychosis can take out half a ship’s critical personnel, you can see why they’d let them keep their moirails.”

“And this is a thing that happens often?” Holy crap, how did they even function as a species if going on crazy murder sprees was a common and legitimate concern? The movie had sort of portrayed moirails as super-affectionate cuddlebuddies so far, and the whole thing was so adorable you would never have guessed that their purpose was to deal with heavy things like Karkat’s describing.

“Often enough,” Karkat says with a careless shrug. “It’s mostly highbloods you have to worry about. Lowbloods tend to be more self-destructive, and the empire doesn’t really care if you want to work yourself sick in a fit of mania or hang yourself from the catwalks.”

“Jesus Karkat, that’s horrible!” You can’t even fathom living in a society where that sort of thing is considered normal.

“That’s why moirails are so important,” Karkat explains, gesturing at nothing. “A good moirallegience is an incredibly strong bond. Your moirail is someone...” he trails off, gnawing at his lip thoughtfully.

“Someone you can trust to protect you from yourself?” Having someone like that actually sounds kind of nice, even if the reason trolls need them in the first place is kind of horrible.

Karkat blinks at you for a surprised moment before smiling, just a little. “Yeah. Exactly that.”

 

**Dave**

“Play me something.”

John’s gaze flickers up to you for a second and then back to the keys with a shake of his head. “What? No.” He’s just screwing around, picking out a simple, meandering melody with one hand.

“C’mon, Egbert!” you cajole, draping yourself over the back of the piano. It was a new addition, brought from the battleship and only in the common area because John didn’t have enough space for it in his room. “Tickle me some ivories. _Serenade_ me, John.”

“Dude, no way.” He abandons his little tune and looks up at you, amusement painted in the corners of his eyes. “I’m not used to playing for people.”

“You did that once,” you point out.

“No,” John says, leaning back on the bench. “I recorded something and sent it to you once because you wouldn’t stop hassling me, and you said, quote, “Wow, Egbert. I didn’t know you could teach a monkey to play the piano, way to go man.” You broke my little twelve year-old heart, Dave.”

His tone is teasing, but you can’t help but wince inwardly a bit. It wasn’t bad, if you remember, but sometimes you think Past Dave might’ve been shooting for some sort of imagined biggest douchewad ever award.

Past Dave? Shit, now you’re sounding like Karkat, and down that path madness lay. “John,” you say in your most reasonable voice. “I was twelve, you can’t hold that against me. C’mon, Davesprite told me you’ve been writing your own music.”

“He _what?_ ” John twists to glare at Davesprite, who just shrugs carelessly, not even looking away from his card game with Rose. “Urgh.” John turns back around and cants you a doubtful look that means you’ve almost got him.

“Don’t make me beg, seriously man. Why do you think I wear these shades? I could give you puppy-dog eyes that are so irresistible they’re dangerous. Shit is downright illegal.” You waggle your shades a bit for effect.

John snorts a laugh, and you know you’ve got him. “Fine, fine.” He gnaws at the inside of his cheek thoughtfully for a minute before putting his hands in position. “You better not be a jerk about it, though.”

“Cross my heart.” You kind of feel bad for hassling him back in the day; you’re certainly not going to do it again.

John closes his eyes briefly, takes a deep breath, and begins to play. He has a pianist's hands, slender fingers dancing across the keys with a surety born of long practice.

Oh.

Oh wow.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but this sheer outpouring of emotion wasn’t it. The song is stark, beautiful and sad all at once, and John plays like he's living and breathing the music. He isn't just good, he is _fantastic_ , and for a moment you can almost see it-- a timeline where there was no game and John lived a life of music writ in white and black.

You close your eyes, letting the notes wash over you, feeling them vibrate through the wood beneath your arms. It ends entirely too soon, and you open your eyes to a smattering of applause. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to listen, and for some reason you’re glad that Karkat had fucked off elsewhere before you’d talked John into playing.

John blushes bright red, twisting in his seat. “Er. Thanks.” He looks back up at you with a shy little half-smile that makes your heart do an interesting twist and flip. Christ, you are so fucking smitten you almost want to kick your own ass. “What did you think?” he asks.

“Holy shit, John,” you say, because you don’t even have the words to express how blown away you are. “That was amazing.”

His face lights up like Christmas. “Really? You think so?”

“Dude, piano might not be my thing, but I know amazing when I hear it,” you say with all the sincerity you can muster. He must have spent the last few years practicing like a madman. “I am beyond fucking impressed. I am your number one fan, and I am not being even remotely facetious. Can I have your autograph?”

John laughs, looking beyond pleased. “I don’t know, you might have to get in line.”

“For you, I’d wait forever.” You’d meant it to sound lighthearted, but there was too much truth in the words and instead you just sound painfully in love. John’s eyes go wide and you scramble for something to say, for damage control. “Or you could just give me my autograph now and save me the indignity of camping out in a line with all your other screaming fans.”

“I don’t think pianists attract a screaming fan kind of crowd,” he says, and oh god, does he look suspicious or is that just your imagination? You can practically feel Davesprite’s knowing look boring a hole in your skull.

Fuck.

“C’mon,” you say, prodding John’s shoulder and desperate to distract him. “Play something else.”

He wavers for a minute, looking at you with an almost-frown before he relents. “Okay. But just one more.” The second song is a little more lighthearted than the first but just as good, and by the time he’s done playing John seems to have forgotten your slip.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have mentioned this sooner, but this fic is unbeta'd, so apologies in advance for any mistakes.
> 
> Also all my love to everyone who's read, left kudos, and commented. You guys are great! <3

**John**

The oppressive weight of the non-atmosphere presses down harder as the weeks pass and the novelty of your new circumstances wears thin. It starts like an itch crawling up your spine, makes you restless and anxious, and more than once you almost ask Jade to let you visit your planet just so you can remember to how breathe. You don’t, because it always drains her and she isn’t responsible for your well being at the expense of her own.

You don’t realize how bad it’s getting to you until you find yourself taking it out on Dave. You don’t even hear what he says --something harmless-- and you look at his almost-smirk and those stupid shades and suddenly you’re so furious you can’t stand it. “I _hate_ these things,” you snarl right over him, snatching them right off his face. “I can never tell what you’re fucking thinking!”

His eyes are red, you discover. He looks so completely taken aback that it might be funny if you weren’t so inexplicably _angry_. He glances between your eyes and his shades, brow furrowed like he can’t figure out what they did to offend you. “I wear them because my eyes are pretty photosensitive. The cool factor is just bonus.”

You laugh a little bitterly. “Cool factor. Right.” You’re not sure why being inscrutable is supposed to be cool, but you hate that you can never quite figure Dave out because you can never quite see him.

Dave frowns. “That’s-- John, are you okay?”

He sounds legitimately concerned, and for once you can even see it, right there in his eyes. It chases your anger away as quickly as it came, and you realize a little hollowly that you’re acting like a giant asshole. “I’m fine,” you mumble thickly, pressing Dave’s shades back into his hands. You’re not fine. You feel like you’re going crazy. “Crap, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. Sorry.”

You abscond. You’d have to pass Dave to get back to your room, so you head for the common area instead, ignoring Jade and Terezi and flinging yourself on the couch, one arm over your eyes. This isn’t the first time you’ve snapped on someone, but at least it wasn’t Jade or Davesprite taking the brunt of your tool attack again. It’s just so frustrating! You don’t mean to act like a raging brat, but things just get under your skin and wear you thin and the next thing you know you’re being a jerk to someone for no valid reason at all. Dave didn’t deserve that.

You hear soft footfalls as Dave comes in and you tense, hoping he doesn’t talk to you. He stands there for a minute, quiet, and you hear him retreat to the other room. “Hey Jade, do you know what’s wrong with John?” He keeps his voice low enough that you shouldn’t be able to hear, but words are breath and you can’t help it.

“Oh, he gets like this sometimes. Just give him some space.” You hear the rustle of paper. “I think it has something to do with his aspect.”

The scrape of a chair. “How do you figure?”

“John’s separated from his aspect in a way the rest of us aren’t, and I think it really messes with him. He gets these sort of breathtaking cases of cabin fever, and I think it has a lot to do with the artificial atmosphere? No wind that he doesn’t make himself. He threw a fit, right?”

“He, uh.” Dave sounds a little bewildered. “Had a moment.”

“It’ll pass,” Jade says, and she would know, wouldn’t she? She’s been dealing with your little freak-outs for years. You feel so _terrible_ that this is a thing they have to put up with. You love your friends, and it’s nobody’s fault that sometimes you feel like you’re suffocating because you’re the Heir of Breath trapped on a rock with no oxygen. You lever yourself off the couch, not looking at Dave as you pass. You make your way to the roof hoping that maybe you’ll feel better outside.

You don’t. There’s no change in the air as you pass outside, not that you honestly expected it. It’s just still, _dead_ , laying thick on your skin like oil, and you can’t believe no one else seems to notice when you can scarcely escape it. You close your eyes and call your wind, just to disrupt the unnatural stillness. It stirs your clothes, your hair, and for a moment the air you breathe doesn’t taste quite so artificial.

You exhale and push, your wind kicking up like a hurricane, and it feels good to flex your power like this. You breathe in and out, letting your wind rage and howl and spiral around you, snapping your hood like a whip.

You’re not sure how long you stand there and just exist before a hand on your cheek makes you open your eyes. It’s Karkat, standing in the middle of your tempest, eyes wide and alarmed, his hair whipping every which way. Your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and it takes you long seconds to realize he’s petting your face and hair with fleeting, nervous hands. You can see his lips forming your name, but it doesn’t reach your ears before the wind steals the sound away.

The wind.

Shit, _shit_.

You drop it as soon as you realize, and the sudden stillness is loud and jarring in its wake. Neither of you move, Karkat’s hands still on your cheeks like he’s afraid to let go, his hair in wild disarray. “What the fuck, John?” he manages, sounding breathless.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t--” you stumble, tongue feeling foreign in your mouth. Your muscles ache something fierce, and just how long were you at it, anyway? “I didn’t know you were there. Are you okay?”

“Am _I_ okay?” Karkat asks, incredulous. He’s stroking your cheeks again in a repetitive, soothing rhythm, and something about it seems almost involuntary, like he can’t help it. “What about you? What was that?”

Good question. You look around dazedly and think it’s a good thing there’s nothing up here. “A tantrum, I think.”

“A tantrum.” The petting stops, and it’s only then that Karkat seems to realize he’s still touching you. He jerks his hands back, and they sort of hover between you like he doesn’t know what to do with them now.

You try to smile, but your own face feels stiff and strange and it just doesn’t work. You swallow. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just--” he bites off a frustrated growl. “You scared the crap out of me. I need to know if you’re okay.”

Your eyes feel hot and tight, and when you blink the world goes blurry. “I think I’m just having a very bad day.” Your voice cracks a little, and as hard as you’re trying not to cry, you aren’t having much luck.

“Hey, don’t.” Karkat says, his voice going soft and soothing in a way that’s almost bizarre. His indecisive hands give up their hovering, snagging in your shirt and tugging you down into a hug.

You tuck your face against his shoulder with a swallowed sob, and the whole thing is a little awkward because he’s a head shorter than you are. He makes a soft trilling sound you’ve never heard before, gripping you tight and stroking your hair. “I’m sorry,” you manage thickly, tears soaking into his shirt. “I didn’t-- I just,” you snuffle miserably. “I yelled at Dave.” For some reason that seems like the worst of your transgressions.

A soft snort. “I yell at Dave all the time. He’s used to it.”

Karkat holds you while you cry yourself out. Once you’re down to the occasional tiny, hiccupping snuffle he moves you back and studies your face with a frown. “Fuck. You’re pathetic.” He pushes your glasses up on your head and wipes away the worst of your tears, before putting your glasses back and giving you an appraising look. “And a mess.”

You laugh a little, wiping your face on your sleeve. “Huge mess,” you agree. You’re completely exhausted, but if you’re being honest, you actually feel a little better than you have in days. “Thank you,” you say a little cautiously. “I think I needed that.”

The look Karkat gives you is completely indecipherable. “Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone,” he says gruffly. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

You smile at him, and this time it sticks. “Deal.”

 

**Dave**

You honestly can’t figure out what the fuck is up with John and Karkat. Ever since John’s weird meltdown, they’ve been acting odd as hell. The only word that really fits is, well, affectionate, and just thinking it makes you want to hit something. Preferably something short and shouty. Granted, it’s not all that unusual for John because he’s a pretty friendly dude all around. But coming from Karkat?

Weird as fuck.

It’s nothing overt, and you’d probably never have noticed if you weren’t stalking Egbert like a giant creep in the first place, but it’s definitely there. Karkat keeps _touching_ him, and it’s really starting to get to you, even though it’s always seemingly innocent shit like bumping shoulders or tugging a lock of hair to get John’s attention. Coming from anyone else you probably wouldn’t think twice, but you like to think you’ve got Karkat pegged by now, and he just doesn’t do that sort of thing.

It isn’t until you walk in on them watching another shitty movie one evening --John’s this time-- that you realize what you’ve been seeing. Karkat’s tucked up against John’s side, and you have to blink and look again because they’re practically _cuddling_. What the actual fuck?

When it clicks, you feel kind of stupid for missing it, because _holy shit Karkat’s hot for John._ You swallow your first jealous impulse, which is to grab Karkat by his stubby little horns and drag him outside for a good old fashioned thrashing. It’s tempting as hell, but when it comes down to it, John can cuddle with whoever he pleases and it’s none of your goddamn business. Doesn’t stop it from chapping your hide, though.

Instead of delivering a righteous beatdown, you wander over to the couch and lean over the back, propping your elbows on Karkat’s head. “Don’t you two look cozy.”

“Ow, fuck. Get off Strider!” Karkat swats at you to no effect, and finally he has to lean away from John to dislodge you. Ha. Yeah, John can cuddle whoever he wants, but that’s not going to stop you from being a dick to Karkat. A man needs his hobbies.

“Hi, Dave.” John’s looking up at you with a worried little smile. You can tell he’s been feeling like shit over his miniature blow-up the other day, despite your attempts to demonstrate that it wasn’t even a thing. “Hey, Karkat?” he asks, holding out the empty bowl that’d been resting in his lap. “Can you grab some more popcorn?”

Karkat looks between you and John for a moment, and wonder of wonders just takes the bowl without argument or gripe. “Yeah, sure.”

“You’re a bro, Karkles,” you croon after him.

He just snorts and says without much venom, “Choke on a bulge, Strider.”

“Dude, stop hitting on me. Desperation is not becoming.” John laughs, and Karkat just bites out one of his terminally annoyed grunts before disappearing on his quest for popcorn.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” John says abruptly, and yeah, you’d figured this was coming.

“Don’t sweat it, everyone goes a little stir crazy sometimes.” You’re not mad. Frankly, you’re just glad that _he’s_ okay, because it’d been a little worrying.

“Still.” John worries his lower lip absently. “That was really shitty of me.”

“Egbert,” you say firmly. “That water is so far under the bridge it’s out to sea. It’s forgotten.”

He looks so relieved you feel like a bit of a tool for not initiating this conversation yourself days ago. “Okay,” he nods and then asks a little hesitantly, “Did you...want to watch the movie with us?” He turns the full force of pleading blue eyes on you, and yeah, you’re not made of fucking stone. Besides, if he’s inviting you, that means this thing with Karkat isn’t a date or whatever.

Not that you care. Except you do, because fuck, who are you kidding?

“I suppose I can endure a little cinematic sludge for my best bro’s sake,” you say magnanimously, and his face lights right up. Kid is so cute it’s fucking criminal, jesus.

You’ve been thinking a lot about the content of John’s little bitchfit, and you figure now’s as good a time as any for the gesture. After only a brief moment of hesitation, you slide your shades off and put them on John’s head. He looks startled. He also looks like a tool with his glasses on his nose and your shades in his hair, but whatever. “Dave?”

“Don’t really need ‘em right now,” you say breezily, like it’s no big deal. Except it is, and you feel kind of naked, but you figure the gesture wouldn’t count for much if it was easy.

He looks somewhere between shocked and pleased. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

John smiles like the goddamned sun, and you know you did the right thing. Then Karkat’s back and totally ruins the moment just by existing, the little shit. He does a double-take when he realizes you’re not wearing your shades, and you raise a brow in his direction and dare him to comment. He just shakes his head, settling back on the couch and cuddling right back up against John like you aren’t standing right fucking there.

Fine, whatever. You flop down in the open spot because hey, John invited you and the dirty look Karkat gives you is so worth having to sit here and watch them looking all disgustingly domestic. After a moment you scoot down and sling your legs up across both their laps, which turns out to be surprisingly comfy in addition to annoying the fuck out of Karkat. John doesn’t even think twice, just shifts a little and and rests an arm across your ankles.

Karkat swears a blue streak and punches you in the knee, and you just stare at him with as perfect a poker face as you can manage sans shades, and eventually John elbows him. “Karkat, shh.”

Ha, score one for Strider. Pushing your luck, you poke John in the ribs with your toes, and he squawks and tries to squirm away, but he’s wedged between Karkat and the arm of the couch and there’s nowhere to go. Ticklish, huh? You file this away for future reference, and now that you’ve got his attention, you open your mouth in the universal sign for, ‘Popcorn. Let’s do this.’

John blinks, then grins, and spends the rest of the movie trying to chuck popcorn into your mouth. He has shit aim, and most of it winds up on the couch and in your hair, but he’s laughing and Karkat looks like he swallowed something sour and yeah. Not a bad way to spend the evening.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now being beta'd by the lovely and wonderful [thewindyThing](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thewindyThing/pseuds/thewindyThing). Any mistakes that managed to sneak through are all mine.
> 
> Also wow, I really like writing Davesprite. I think I'm going to have to do something with him for my next fic.

**John**

You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, watching Karkat pace the short length of your room. “I’m just worried about her,” he sighs, pausing in his prowl to pluck the pillow out of your arms and add it to the growing pile of junk in the middle of your floor.

He’s talking about Terezi, who’s apparently having Issues with a capital I. “You said she was doing better, though!” You think Karkat’s team mom schtick is actually kind of sweet, but you wisely keep that to yourself. It’s clear that he really cares a lot about everyone, but he bristles like an angry porcupine whenever it comes up.

Karkat grunts, adjusting the pillow a few times until he seems satisfied with its placement. You really have no idea what he’s doing, but the collection in the middle of the room has been growing steadily throughout the conversation. “She is,” Karkat allows. “Or at least I haven’t found her pantless in a puddle of Faygo recently.” The sweater Rose made you not too long ago joins the pile. “It’s just that her kismesissitude with Gamzee is really unhealthy.”

You haven’t met Gamzee yet, and based on the stories you’ve heard you’re pretty sure you never want to. “Isn’t unhealthy kind of the point?” You still don’t get the appeal of black romance, but as far as you can figure it’s pretty unhealthy by definition.

Karkat stops short and looks at you like you’re an idiot. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous.” He picks up a book Rose lent you, turns it over in his hands, and then puts it back on the desk instead of adding it to the pile, opting for a book of sheet music instead.

Oh! He’s building a _pile_ , you realize. You’re not really sure what the point of a pile is, exactly, but you’re sort of pleased with yourself for recognizing a troll thing even when you don’t really get it. “Are you building a pile with my stuff?” you ask, hoping maybe he’ll explain. You’ve discovered it’s pretty easy to get Karkat to wax eloquent on just about anything without much prompting.

Instead of answering you Karkat just freezes, dropping the sheet music like it’d burned him. “Oh god,” he says, looking at the pile like he’s only just realized it’s there. “What am I doing? This is sick.”

Ooookay. Not the reaction you were expecting. “Uh, it’s okay? I mean, I don’t mind as long as you put the stuff back when you’re done.”

You’re shooting for reassuring, but you’re pretty sure you missed the mark when Karkat groans and buries his face in his hands. “Of course you don’t mind. That’s the fucking problem.”

You think Karkat is pretty great most of the time, but there are moments when dealing with trolls kinda gives you a headache. They’re sort of complicated. Maybe making a pile out of someone else’s stuff was rude or something? “Maybe you should sit down and explain what’s wrong?”

Karkat just makes a pained sound and doesn’t move. You sigh and unfold yourself, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him back to sit on the bed. He doesn’t put up a fight and you don’t press. Not talking isn’t Karkat’s natural state, and you know if you wait he’ll speak up eventually.

He sighs. “The problem is that you’re human,” he says, looking at you sidelong.

Wow, ouch. You try not to take offense, but it’s not like being human is something you can help. “Not much I can do about that,” you say softly.

“That’s not what I meant.” He rubs his face with a frustrated growl. “The problem is that I keep taking advantage of you because I’m a scumsucking nookstain, and you don’t even realize it’s happening because you’re human and you don’t get it.”

You frown, not sure you like the way he’s talking himself down. You think this might be about more than the pile. “You make it sound like you’ve done something horrible, but I’m pretty sure you haven’t?” This is almost certainly one of those cultural misunderstanding things, like with the buckets.

“You don’t get it. Urgh!” He fists his hands in his hair for a moment, before blowing out a loud breath and looking at you. “I’m pale for you.” He sounds almost defeated.

You’re not really sure what that means, but the way Karkat says it makes you think it’s important. “Pale?”

“As in the pale quadrant,” he explains, looking away.

Oh. _Oh._

You can feel yourself blush, and you stare down at your hands. Okay, wow. You were not expecting that. It’s actually really flattering that Karkat likes you that way, and you’re suddenly glad for all of his romance rants because without them you’d probably have zero idea what he was talking about. You comb through all the things you know about moirails, and suddenly his behavior these last few weeks makes a whole lot of sense. And here you’d thought he was just secretly cuddly.

You realize you might be kind of an idiot.

You also realize Karkat’s sitting there looking tense and miserable, waiting for you to say something. “Um,” you manage, because you are the master of eloquence. It is you. You cough and try again. “I still don’t understand what you think you did wrong?”

Karkat doesn’t look at you, and when he answers he sounds subdued. “I’ve been treating you like you’re my moirail even though you aren’t. And that’s pretty screwed up because you didn’t even know to tell me to back off, since humans are really weird when it comes to pale stuff.”

Okay, you can sort of see where he’s coming from. You also think it isn’t as big a deal as he seems to believe. “Karkat,” you say, ducking your head a bit and trying to get him to look at you. He finally does, somewhat reluctantly. “You didn’t do anything I wasn’t okay with. I get that you feel like you were tricking me, and I guess it was a little dishonest? But it’s okay. Really.”

“It’s okay,” he repeats flatly, looking at you like you’re mentally deficient.

“It is!” You lean back and look up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to explain it in a way that’ll make sense to Karkat. “From your side I guess it seems like you’ve been sort of... pale perving? Is that a thing?” Wow, okay, this is kind of awkward, but you’re determined to see the conversation through.

“Uh,” Karkat blinks, then rubs his cheek a little, embarrassed. “That’s as good a term as any, I guess.”

“Except from a human point of view, all you’ve really been is a little extra cuddly, and maybe a bit less grumpy.” Karkat’s watching you now with furrowed brows, like he’s trying to figure out what you’re getting at. “My point being that there’s nothing skeevy about that.” You gnaw your lip a little. “You’ve been a really good friend, actually.” You haven’t had a freakout episode since the first, and that was almost a month ago. Karkat seems to have some kind of sixth sense for when things are getting to you, and he just... makes it better, somehow. Which you suppose is what a moirail is supposed to do, although you hadn’t recognized it for what it was at the time. “I’m pretty grateful, really.”

Karkat looks a little dumbstruck. “Oh. Okay, good,” his voice is gruff and awkward, but it’s a huge step up from miserable. “I know humans don’t have moirails, and I really don’t want to screw up our friendship by being a culturally insensitive fuckhead.”

“Not usually,” you agree, regarding Karkat thoughtfully. You care about him, a lot. He’s become an important fixture in your life in a relatively short period of time. You enjoy the easy affection the two of you have developed. He helps you remember how to breathe, and you distract him from the worries and fears that plague him constantly. You’re no expert, but you’re pretty sure that’s what being moirails is all about.

You think maybe you _want_ to be his moirail, even if it’s not how humans usually do things. Suddenly shy, it takes you a minute to work up the nerve to say, “But we could try. If you want.”

Karkat just sits there and stares for so long that you’re worried it was the wrong thing to say, but then he abruptly launches himself across the bed and you’re holding each other tight. You laugh a little giddily and bury your face in his hair, glasses clacking against his horns. Maybe it’s weird to even try, just because you’re human, because you’re not supposed to be programmed for this type of relationship, but Karkat makes you feel peaceful in a way you can’t really explain and honestly don’t want to give up.

 

**Dave**

You’re starting to get used to the John and Karkat thing. Or at least your first impulse isn’t to piss on John like a territorial shitbag anymore, and you suppose that’s progress. Which isn’t to say that you’re not taking every opportunity to needle Karkat like it’s an olympic sport and you’re going for the gold, but let’s be honest-- you’d be doing that anyway.

It still makes your stomach dip in sick jealousy whenever you find them on the roof, heads bowed too close in serious discussion, or when you walk into the common room in the wee hours of the morning only to find them curled around each other in front of another stupid movie. You hate that it makes you jealous. You hate that it’s happening at all. Mostly you hate the way Karkat’s head fits under John’s chin like they’re a two-man jigsaw puzzle.

Okay, maybe you’re not getting all that used to it.

The only consolation is that even though it’s obvious that Karkat’s over the moon for John, everything seems to be nestled safely in platonicville, even if the bro cuddles are totally unironic. You’re beginning to wonder if maybe you should just fess up and tell John how you feel before Karkat beats you to it. Unfortunately, while you’d doubtlessly handle any potential rejection like a champ, you’re not exactly the sharing and caring type, not to mention you’re not sure what you’d do if it put a strain on your friendship. You’re pretty sure you’re not willing to risk your relationship with John over the potential for sloppy makeouts, regardless of how fantastic the idea of said makeouts might be.

“Dave! Dinner!” Ah, nothing like the sweet, siren call of mealtime to soothe the turbulent minds of lovesick teenagers everywhere.

The whole suburban Sunday dinner routine was Rose’s idea, but Jade’s the one that makes it happen. And threatens people grievous bodily harm if they don’t turn up. The idea of you and your alien pals sitting down to dinner like the fucking Huxtables on a meteor hurtling through space was so beautifully ironic that you couldn’t help but get behind it. Not to mention that any day someone else wants to take responsibility for feeding you is a good day.

You consider snagging the chair next to Karkat that’s obviously being reserved for John. Instead you just flick one of his horns and say, “Don’t slouch at the dinner table, Karkles. Jesus, were you raised in a barn?”

Karkat yelps and cranes his neck to glower at you. “Fuck you, Strider. What makes you think I want to sit here making conversation with an ignorant shitstain like you while shoveling bizarre human fruit pastries down my protein chute?”

“There’s _pie?_. Fuck yes.” You snag a roll from the basket in the middle of the table before grabbing an empty chair between Davesprite and Kanaya. You’re not even sure why Kanaya bothers with these little dinner parties since she doesn’t eat normal food. Probably has something to do with her and Rose being surgically attached at the hip. Davesprite on the other hand does actually eat even though you’re pretty sure he doesn’t need to, and you really have no idea how that ends for a dude that’s all tail from the waist down.

John turns up just as you finish demolishing your roll, cheeks flushed and hair hilariously vertical in the way it gets when he’s been dicking around with his windy thing. “Sorry, lost track of time!” he skirts around the table, and instead of immediately sitting down, he hesitates behind Karkat for the space of a heartbeat --0.923 seconds you can’t help but note--before slinging an arm over Karkat’s shoulder and dropping a kiss in his hair.

You don’t realize you’re staring like a slack-jawed moron until Davesprite stabs you with a fork under the table. Your mouth snaps shut with an audible click. Good sprite. Best friend. You’d be tempted to kiss him if it wouldn’t be a vaguely narcissistic incestuous clusterfuck. Rose’d have a field day.

Luckily, no one seems to have noticed the lapse in your cool, but seriously what the fuck? Someone passes you the potatoes and you take the bowl on autopilot. Hair kissing was not part of the usual John and Karkat song and dance. No lips on body of any kind, and certainly not initiated by _John_. Which meant something had changed, and you don’t really want to think about what that something might be. Mostly you just want to slide under the table like a melodramatic preteen and die.

Something warm curls around your leg, and it takes you a second to realize it’s Davesprite’s tail and not a particularly forward meteor snake. You glance at him but he’s talking to John about setting up regular strife practice and seems to be ignoring you entirely. Holy shit, is he trying to _comfort_ you? Oh god, he _is_ , this is some sort of freaky sprite tail hand-holding bullshit right here. That is so uncool it shoots right past ironic and lodges solidly somewhere in legitimately fucking sappy.

It’s also making you feel a little better, damn him.

Dinner passes at an agonizingly slow pace, Davesprite giving your leg the occasional tail-squeeze to alert you to any pending conversation in your direction. Man, you can’t even get excited about the pie anymore and that’s just sad. You’re about to excuse yourself and abscond to your room, maybe spend the night laying down some sick beats and pretending not to brood, but Davesprite beats you to it. “Hey, John, would you mind taking over for Dave? I gotta borrow him for a bit.” Oh right. You forgot you were on dish duty.

He doesn’t even wait for John to agree before he’s practically dragging you away by your hood. As soon as you’re safe from prying ears and eyes he lets go of you and says, “This is getting out of hand.”

You stick your hands in your pockets and try to pretend he didn’t just drag you away by the scruff like a misbehaving kitten. “I agree. I like you dude, but I draw the line at holding hands under the table.”

The look he gives you is flatly unimpressed. “I’ve kept my mouth shut about you mooning after John like a lovestruck little girl, but this is ridiculous.”

“Well then it’s a good thing it’s none of your fucking business then, isn’t it?”

“Oh, for fucks sake. Stop being a little bitch and talk to him.”

You stare. He can’t be serious. “Oh, right. Silly me. ‘Hi, John, looks like you might be dating Karkat now good for you oh by the way I’ve been in love with you since I was like ten. Whoops.’ Yeah, that won’t be a flaming wreck of a disaster. Good thinking.”

Davesprite snorts. “I didn’t tell you to vomit feelings all over him. I said talk to him. Y’know, act like a fucking adult instead pulling Karkat’s pigtails and wallowing in a jealous puddle of self-pity.”

“You’re kind of a dick.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So are you.”

You’re pretty sure you like this dude, and not even in a self-centered ‘he’s awesome because he’s me’ sort of way. “We should really sort out this name business,” you say abruptly, because you don’t want to talk about John. “Davesprite is more of a descriptor than anything.”

There’s a long pause, and you can tell you’ve caught him flat-footed. Flat-tailed, whatever. “Why don’t we wait and see if I actually survive this business first, then we’ll worry about names.”

That was pretty pessimistic, christ. “Aren’t you all silver linings and half full glasses.”

The look Davesprite gives you indicates you might actually be the stupidest little fish ever to crawl onto dry land. He must be taking lessons from Karkat. “I’m a game construct, stupid. Odds are pretty good that I’m going to cease to exist when the game ends.”

Oh. Fuck. You might actually be the biggest asshole in all known universes, congrats Dave Strider, collect your trophy by the door. “Wow, shit, I am an enormous bag of dicks.”

He doesn’t really seem upset, maybe just a little... resigned? “Yeah, obviously.” He pokes your shoulder, hard. “Talk to John.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mutter, because after accidentally reminding Davesprite of his probable and imminent demise, you don’t really have it in you to argue anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home stretch, folks! Only one chapter left after this. 
> 
> I wound up inverting the pattern this time because once I finished John's part I realized that Dave's had to come first.

**Dave**

You slap down the king of hearts and smirk triumphantly when John groans and draws another card. The two of you are huddled under a structurally unsound blanket fort playing Crazy Eights like a couple of ten year-olds, and you’re pretty sure you’re not supposed to be having nearly as much unironic fun as you are. You’re also pretty sure you don’t care, because this lame slumber party is the first time you’ve had John to yourself in a week.

Which you’re not supposed to be thinking about. You check a sigh, watching John grumble and sort his steadily growing hand. You’re ninety percent sure that John and Karkat are dating. It’s not like you’ve caught them in the middle of sloppy makeouts _\--thank god--_ but it’s still pretty obvious in a lot of other small ways. Like that kiss at dinner last week, like the way Karkat can make John smile small and soft, or the way Karkat looks at John like he hangs the fucking moon when he thinks no one is watching. Not that you can blame him, because you kind of agree on that last point, but it still really stings.

You know you promised Davesprite that you’d talk to John, and you’re honestly not being a giant wuss about it. It’s just that you’re pretty sure you already know the answer and you really don’t want to hear it. You’re a practical dude most of the time, but you’re not really prepared to hand John your heart and a cheese grater.

Okay, maybe you are being a giant wuss.

You spend the next few plays trying to organize your thoughts. It doesn’t help much, and your fingers itch to take back your shades, to have that familiar armor back where it belongs but it would make John suspicious. You don’t regret this little ritual you’ve started, mostly because John’s so obviously pleased each and every time, but you kind of wish you’d kept them for this particular conversation.

You need to stop stalling. “Are you and Karkat dating?” You drop the question between you like a grenade, and it’s only in the startled silence that follows that you realize that John had been talking. Wow, smooth asshole. Good job.

You regard your hand studiously, hoping the question came off as casual as you’d intended and thinking it probably didn’t. John manages a small ‘um,’ and you risk a glance up. He’s blushing. John’s face looks like a goddamned cherry tomato, and your stomach does a queasy flip.

John catches you looking and smiles uncertainly. “I guess so?”

Oh god.

He laughs a little awkwardly. “I mean, yeah. We weren’t going to say anything until we were sure it wasn’t going to be some culturally awkward disaster, but.” His smile morphs into something more genuine. “We’re moirails.”

More troll quadrant bullshit, and you can’t even remember which one that is aside from obviously not hate, but it doesn’t fucking matter. John’s staring at you, a little nervous and little hopeful, like you’re his father and he’s asking for your goddamn blessing. Fuck Davesprite and his stupid ideas with a rusty fork.

You swallow hard and draw a card, rearranging your hand slowly because you’re afraid if you look at him he’ll see how wounded you are. “Okay.” It doesn’t sound easy, but it doesn’t sound like you’re dying, so you guess there’s that.

You glance up and John’s gnawing his lip. He looks worried now, and he’s not paying attention to the game anymore. “Okay?”

You draw on every reserve of chill the fuck out you’ve got, and look him in the eye. “Yeah.” You sound good, normal. “I mean, it was kind of obvious, but I figured I’d ask.”

John blinks, and he’s blushing again. He breaks eye contact first, and you send a little prayer of thanks to whatever deities might be listening. “I was also maybe a little worried that you wouldn’t, um. Approve?”

You’re a little flattered that your opinion matters to him, and a little upset that he thinks you might give him legitimate shit. Granted, you’re blindingly unhappy about the whole mess, but not for the reasons John probably thinks. “Dude, are you kidding me? First,” you tick a point off on your fingers, “giving you shit about your alien boyfriend would make me a raging hypocrite. Second, after growing up with Bro there is literally nothing you could do that would weird me out more than he ever did, and third, you’re my best bro and whatever makes you happy, makes me happy.” Shit, that was kind of sappy, and if John wasn’t busy unknowingly trampling your delicate glass heart underfoot, it’d even be true.

John just beams at you like you’re the best thing in the universe, and you feel like kind of a douche. Because you’re not happy, you’re nowhere near, and it makes you feel like a liar. Then he lunges at you, scattering cards everywhere as he throws his arms around your neck. “Thanks, Dave,” he says into your shoulder.

You should laugh and shove him away, but you hug him back instead. You close your eyes and for a moment you just breathe, because this is everything you ever wanted, and you can’t keep him because you didn’t speak up when you had the chance. John pulls away first and it feels like you’re dying, but when he smiles you find in it yourself to smile back.

The moment’s too heavy, and you feel like John can see right through you. You blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “He better take care of my princess.”

John blinks.

“If he breaks your heart I’m going to have to break his legs.”

“What?”

“And I hope you’re using protection.”

“OH MY GOD DAVE!”

 

**John**

Karkat’s curled up against your chest and completely dead to the world. It’s the middle of the afternoon and not the best time for a nap, but you don’t have the heart to wake him just yet. You thought you were familiar with the pitfalls of insomnia thanks to your periodic restless nights, but you’re discovering that Karkat has it down to a very sad science.

Karkat shifts with a quiet hitch, and you stroke his hair until he settles again. You think he’s afraid of sleeping, although he hasn’t said as much. Not because of the nightmares, although you know how much those suck from personal experience, but because he’s afraid what’s going to happen when he’s not looking. You’ve been learning a lot about your new moirail, and one thing that’s becoming clearer by the day is just how deeply Karkat _cares._ He honestly believes that everyone is his responsibility, his to protect, and any time someone gets hurt he feels like it’s his fault. You know from the way he tries to hide it that he considers caring some kind of failing, but you think it might be your favorite thing about him.

You were worried that you wouldn’t be any good at this moirail thing, but you’re both adjusting pretty well and the bumps are fewer than you’d expected. The worst had probably been the painfully awkward experience of explaining to a freaked out Karkat that morning wood did not mean you were sexually attracted to him. You were still half asleep when you’d learned that sex with one’s moirail was astronomical levels of kinky and that Karkat was concerned that you might expect it since humans were all about the concupiscent romance. You’d explained with a beet red face that you weren’t actually interested in getting in his pants, no worries. Still, a few embarrassing hiccups aside, you and Karkat were doing pretty well.

You’re warm and comfortable, and starting to feel a little drowsy yourself when you distantly register footsteps in the hallway. You start when your door swings open, squinting a little as light spills in from the hall. “Hey Egbert, you in--” Dave cuts off abruptly, staring. “Uh.”

Crap, you didn’t realize how late it had gotten. Karkat growls and stirs, and you put a quelling hand on his head. “Sorry Dave, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“...Sure.” The door shuts with a soft snick behind him.

“I fell asleep?” Karkat mumbles around a sharp-toothed yawn.

You drum your fingertips gently against one horn. “Yeah. I figured I’d just let you get some rest.” You don’t mention how much he needs it, because you know it’ll just make him grumpy.

“Mrmph.” He rolls a little and mushes his face into your chest. You laugh and give him a nudge when it becomes clear he doesn’t plan on moving.

“I gotta go, Dave’s waiting for me. You’re welcome to crash out here if you’re still tired though.” As much as you enjoy cuddles, you’re not going to bail on bro time with Dave.

Karkat sighs and pushes himself up, nuzzling you under the chin before sliding off. He grabs the blanket and rolls himself into a troll burrito as he goes, until only his horns and a tuft of black hair are visible. “I hate Dave,” he grumps, muffled.

You grin, because you know he doesn’t mean it. “Hot.”

“Ugh, John. No. My hate is totally platonic, don’t be disgusting.” He tries to kick you and misses by a mile. You laugh and give his blanket-bundled shoulder a pat.

Dave’s waiting for you in the hallway. “Sorry,” you say as you close the door behind you. You’re really hoping Karkat goes back to sleep. “Lost track of time.”

Dave shrugs carelessly, pushing away from the wall. “It happens.”

“But not to you!” You’re almost certain you wouldn’t want Dave’s powers because you find the consequences a little quietly horrifying, but you’ve got to admit that having a perfectly accurate clock in your brain at all times would be handy.

That earns you the ghost of a smile. “Well, no. But not everyone can be as perfect as I am, man. Gotta make allowances.” He pauses a beat. “Sorry for barging in without knocking.”

“It’s fine,” you say. It was kinda your fault for forgetting about your bro-date anyway. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Dave gives you an aggravated look over the top of his shades. “No, John. We watched one of your shitty movies last time, and on top of that I had to deal with Rose getting drunk and trying to sit in my lap for two hours. I am putting my fucking foot down.”

You can’t really argue with that. As funny as it was, you’re honestly a little concerned about Rose’s new drinking habits. “Fine, what do you want to do?”

“Wanna strife?”

Dave Strider, ladies and gentlemen. Although you suppose you should be flattered; you’re pretty sure kicking the crap out of someone is a gesture of affection where Striders are concerned. “Dude, I was on the roster yesterday. I’m pretty sure my bruises still have bruises.” Setting up a regular strife schedule had sounded like a good idea until you realized you might be a little out of practice.

He chuckles a little at that. “I warned you not to underestimate Terezi, man. She is ten tons of badass in a hundred pound package. I am not even a little surprised she kicked your shit in.”

You feel like you should should be offended on behalf of your manpride. You shoulder Dave into the wall, and he shoves you back with that little cheek twitch that you’ve come to realize is him trying not to smile. “Let’s pick something that won’t leave me sore in the morning,” you suggest.

Dave stops short and just _looks_ at you, eyebrows arching over his shades. It takes you a second to realize why. “Daaaaave,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands. Why does he have to be so embarrassing? _God_.

“Hey, I’m not the one making all sorts of filthy innuendos,” Dave says easily. “Not that I blame you, we Striders are known for being irresistible.”

You snort a laugh and give him a sideways look. “Must be all that animal magnetism.”

A tiny smile sneaks over his lips. “Don’t forget charming.”

“Positively dashing.”

He lifts his shades and gives you the most ridiculous mock bedroom eyes. “Unbearably handsome.”

“Dave, stop.” You hold the back of one hand to your head and fan yourself with the other. “I’m swooning.”

He drops his shades back into place with a smirk. “Sorry man, that’s a side effect of repeated exposure to all this.”

You shake your head and laugh. God, he’s such a dork. The whole coolkid persona is seriously just a cover for the fact that Dave Strider is secretly a giant dork. It’s pretty great. “Seriously though, what do you want to do?”

Dave considers for a second. “We should totally go chill in Can Town, see if the Mayor needs a hand.”

“...Can Town?”

The look Dave is giving you is completely incredulous. “It’s been two months and you haven’t been to Can Town yet?”

“Uh. No?” You’re not even sure what Can Town is, although you’ve seen the Mayor from time to time. Friendly little guy.

“Well shit. This is a gross oversight that needs to be remedied posthaste.” Dave grabs your wrist and drags you to the alchemiter, rambling about Can Town being ‘a shining beacon of democracy’ and ‘a pristine jewel of civilization’ while loading you up with an armful of canned goods. He then marches you down into the bowels of the meteor and--

Oh.

Can Town.

The Mayor is sitting in the middle of an admittedly impressive civilization of cans and chalk. He waves at the two of you cheerily when you walk in. Your arms are full, but Dave waves back. “‘Sup little dude. John is here today to learn the joys of urban development at the knee of the master.”

You’re not entirely sure about that, and you throw Dave a puzzled look as the Mayor scrambles up to relieve you of your burden. Dave just smirks and pulls off his shades, hanging them on your collar. It still gives you a warm feeling that Dave’s comfortable enough with you to give up a piece of his armor just to make you happy. “Trust me, dude,” he says. “Can Town is awesome.”

Karkat finds you three hours later arguing with Dave about the zoning for Can Town’s newest housing development. “Dude, no! I’m telling you, we should put it on the other side of the park. Higher property values means more taxes, and that means more money for the community!” The Mayor totally agrees with you. You can tell by the way he’s sitting there with his face in his hands.

Dave rolls his eyes dramatically. “Egbert, no. No _shoosh_ , I’m saying--”

“Figured he’d drag you down here eventually.” Karkat’s standing in the doorway with your blanket still around his shoulders, looking kind of adorably like a kid wandering the house in the middle of the night. Dave snatches his shades off your shirt and they’re back in place in a flash. You don’t blame him for wanting them back when others are around, but it still makes you a little sad.

Karkat shuffles over with a yawn, hiking his blanket so it doesn’t drag through the chalk river. He settles against your side and nuzzles your throat, and wow he must still be half asleep because he’s not usually _this_ affectionate where other people can see. You can feel yourself going red, and you half-expect Dave to crack some mortifying joke, but when you glance up at him he’s gone full pokerface and you can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“Come to do your civic duty?” Dave asks, and something about the complete lack of inflection makes you frown.

Karkat scoffs against your neck and shifts a little so that he can see Dave without detaching from you. “In what universe would I be interested in playing with your stupid town of nutrition cylinders? No offense, Mayor.” The Mayor shrugs. “I’m here because Jade’s looking for you.” Karkat snakes an arm around yours and snuggles close with a trilling little purr that you _know_ he’d usually never make in mixed company. What’s going on? “Message delivered.” You glance from Karkat, looking tired and languid and off-the-scales affectionate, to Dave, shoulders rigid and face blank. You’re pretty sure you’re missing something.

“Right.” Dave’s response is clipped, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was angry. “Guess I’d better see what she wants. Later, Egbert.”

“Bye, Dave.” The instant he’s gone, Karkat is sitting upright looking perfectly alert and a little annoyed. “What the hell was that?” you ask, completely bewildered. That whole exchange was just weird.

“I had a suspicion that Strider just proved correct by being an unfathomable moron,” Karkat sounds somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Lucky for you idiots I have two gander bulbs and a functional thinkpan, which is more than either of you can boast.”

“Hey!” you say as Karkat gets to his feet. Rude. Then, “...I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Karkat rolls his eyes and hauls you up. “I’ll explain later. C’mon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, if anyone is interested I have a tumblr at <http://arathe.tumblr.com/> and I could definitely use some Homestuck buddies!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the delay! This chapter gave me a lot of trouble for some reason.
> 
> Thanks for all the hits, kudos and comments. You guys are fabulous and I hope you enjoy the last chapter. <3

**Dave**

Ever since that day in Can Town, you’ve been doing your best to avoid Karkat without seeming like you’re avoiding Karkat. It’s been tough, because casually being everywhere Karkat isn’t is kind of exhausting, and it means you’re sort of avoiding John as a consequence. As much as it sucks, the best you can do is keep a low profile until you can get past all this seething jealousy without losing your cool. For one, it’s just fucking shameful. For another, you’re reasonably certain John wouldn’t take it well if you snapped and punched Karkat in the face.

The whole thing is doubly frustrating because you actually like Karkat. He’s a little high-strung, sure, and riling him up is entertaining as hell, but he’s a pretty solid dude. If it was Jade dating him you’d probably be okay with it.

But it isn’t Jade; it’s John, and you’re a selfish dick.

The whole sorry mess is why you’re hiding in your room in the middle of the afternoon. Well no, not _hiding_ , because that indicates fear and you are not afraid. More like magnanimously sparing Karkat from a run-in with your fists like the thoughtful bro you are. Shit is so downright charitable you’re going to have to register as a nonprofit and start returning Sally Struthers’ phone calls.

Your train of thought is derailed as the HUD flickers to life and familiar gray text pops up behind your shades.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG]

CG: STRIDER, WHERE ARE YOU?  
CG: WE NEED TO TALK.

Shit. In all of your evasive shenanigans you can’t believe you actually forgot to set yourself invisible on pesterchum. Talk about a rookie mistake. You can’t jump offline now or Karkat will know you’re dodging him, but the last thing you want to do at the moment is have a conversation.

CG: I KNOW YOU’RE AVOIDING ME, YOU PATHETIC PILE OF STINKING REFUSE.

Dammit.

TG: whoa settle down there karkles  
TG: cant a man be busy without wild accusations flying around  
TG: like damn its a tornado of baseless allegations  
TG: this is some wizard of oz shit right here  
TG: were going straight over the rainbow riding this twister of lies  
CG: WHAT?  
CG: NEVERMIND, I DON’T CARE.  
CG: JUST TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE SO WE CAN GET THIS NONSENSE OVER WITH.  
TG: dude im flattered you want to chill with me  
TG: but im only one man  
TG: theres only so much strider to go around  
TG: gotta have a little solo time  
TG: recharge my batteries  
TG: commune with the universe  
CG: IT’S AMAZING HOW MUCH TALKING YOU MANAGE TO DO WITHOUT ACTUALLY SAYING ANYTHING. I’D ALMOST BE IMPRESSED IF IT WASN’T SO FUCKING ANNOYING.  
CG: SINCE YOU CAN’T BE BOTHERED TO ANSWER A SIMPLE QUESTION, I’M GOING TO ASSUME YOU’RE IN YOUR RESPITEBLOCK.  
CG: SO I’M GOING TO COME OVER THERE, AND WE’RE GOING HAVE A CONVERSATION ABOUT ALL THIS FUCKERY WITH YOU AND JOHN.  
CG: AND BY CONVERSATION I MEAN YOU’RE GOING TO SHUT YOUR FLAP FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE AND ACTUALLY LISTEN, YOU INSUFFERABLE, PAN-ADDLED SHITSTAIN.  
TG: uh karkat i dont think

carcinoGeneticist [CG] has ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG]

Well, shit. You eyeball the door thoughtfully, wondering if you have time to make yourself scarce before Karkat rolls in hissing and spitting like an angry cat. It’s apparent that he’s twigged to your painfully uncool jealousy, and you’re obviously about to get some sort of ‘John is mine, back off’ speech that you could really do without.

Less than a minute passes before Karkat thumps your door and growls, “You’d better be in there!”

You sigh and sit upright, schooling your expression into something carefully neutral. “So you gonna come in, or what?” Karkat opens the door, and you’re surprised to find that he doesn’t seem particularly angry. No more so than usual anyway. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your uninvited company?”

Karkat rolls his eyes and shuts the door firmly behind him before commandeering your only chair and declaring without preamble, “You’re flushed for John.”

Your heart plummets somewhere to the vicinity of your knees. Okay then. Let’s just get straight to the point, shall we? You force a smirk. “You worried I’m going to snatch Egbert out from under you? It’s a valid concern because --let’s be real for a second-- you’re you and I’m me, but don’t worry man. I’m no homewrecker. John’s virtue is safe as--”

“Shut up!” Karkat snarls, cutting you off. “Jesus fuck, what part of ‘shut your flap and listen’ did you not understand? Pull your head out of your waste chute for a minute, okay? You’re flushed for John. That is painfully fucking obvious to just about everyone at this point.” You resist the urge to wince, but only just. You really hope he’s exaggerating. “But instead of pursuing him in whatever bizarre courtship rituals humans indulge in, you’ve chosen instead to radiate jealous impotence in my direction at every opportunity. Which is not only annoying as fuck, it’s also stupid, because John is not my matesprit, dimwit. He’s my moirail, something which I happen to know for a fact that he told you, and that means his red quadrant is wide open. And yet you persist in being a raging pain in the ass.”

Oh god. This might actually be worse than the anticipated back off speech. Kakart’s sitting here trying to tell you it’s open season on John, and while you can almost appreciate the thought, it seems like he’s forgetting that _John isn’t a troll._ You’re almost a little pissed off on your bro’s behalf. “Yeah, that’s great and all. Except you’re forgetting that humans don’t really do the quadrant thing. John’s only got one square to fill, and you’re it.” It hurts to say, but the last thing you want is for John to get his heart broken over a crazy alien misunderstanding.

Karkat just stares at you for a long, long moment. “Wow. Thank you, Strider, for that gleaming gem of relationship advice.” The sarcasm is so thick you can practically touch it. “It certainly never occurred to me to sit down with John and have an adult fuck conversation about expectations. Just because the same never occurred to you and Terezi doesn’t mean we’re all that overwhelmingly stupid.”

Ouch. Low blow. “So, what? You’re here to tell me that you two are solidly in the best bro quadrant and John’s cool with that?” You’re not really sure how to feel about that. Seems a little too good to be true, especially when John had said yes when you asked if they were dating.

“Are you being deliberately obtuse, or are you really this fucking dense?” Karkat scowls at you and tugs a handful of hair in frustration. “Moirallegence isn’t the ‘best bro’ quadrant, you unmitigated fuckwit. I know your puny human mind has trouble grasping the finer nuances of troll romance, but it _is_ romance. Just because my relationship with John isn’t concupiscent doesn’t mean we’re ‘just good friends’ or whatever backwards human notion you have.”

You’re beginning to think maybe you should have paid more attention to Karkat’s lectures before this, because you’re getting emotional whiplash from this dating to not-dating to sort-of-dating shit. Jesus fuck. “So, what? You’re dating, but not boning?”

Karkat rolls his eyes. “Leave it to you to sum things up in the crudest way possible, but I suppose that’s an acceptable approximation of my relationship with John for our purposes here.”

Huh. Okay. That’s... interesting. You’re not getting your hopes up, you’re _not_ , because that would be really freaking stupid and you still aren’t sure you’re parsing this shit correctly. “So why’re you here exactly? To give me your blessing?”

Karkat cocks his head and gives you a pointed look. “I’m here to set you fucking straight so that you stop acting like an overgrown wiggler. For some mysterious reason, John likes you. A lot. No accounting for taste, but whatever. He’s my moirail; I want him to be happy, and I’m pretty fucking sure he could be happy _with you._ Assuming you’re capable of acting like anything other than an ignorant douchewaffle, anyway.”

It’s all you can do to keep your face from doing all sorts of confused acrobatics, because you’re pretty sure that was the bitchy Karkat version of _go get ‘im, tiger._ Your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest and tapdance a macabre trail across the room, and you aren’t even sure you can deal with this. Even assuming all went well you’d basically have to share John with Karkat. Ish. “And what if I’m not on board with the idea of splitting a timeshare with you?”

“Then too fucking bad,” Karkat snarls. “If you think I’m going to give up my moirail just to cater to your delicate human sensibilities, you’re more pan-addled than I thought. If you want to wallow in your flushcrush until your pitiful human heart implodes, be my fucking guest. John can probably do better than someone who doesn’t respect his choices.”

You know he’s being a dick on purpose, you know, but hell if it doesn’t strike home anyway. You bristle. “If it wasn’t already fucking obvious, I was _trying_ to respect his choices.”

“By avoiding him and sulking?” Karkat scoffs. “Yes, very supportive. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“By not letting him know I was heartbroken, asshole!” You don’t mean to say it, and you take a deep breath to keep yourself from spewing any more uncomfortable truths. “Just because I’m not happy doesn’t mean I’m not doing my best to be supportive, and fuck you for insinuating otherwise.” You try to remind yourself that he’s just looking out for John, but seriously, to hell with this upstart. John has been your friend for _years_ , and shit, you know you aren’t perfect but you’re doing your goddamned best--

“Good.”

You blink, completely derailed. “What?”

“Now that it’s been established that you respect John’s choices and we’ve dispelled whatever misconceptions you had about our relationship, you should go talk to him.” Karkat stands, brushing invisible lint from his sweater. “He should be in the library.”

You have the very uncomfortable feeling that you just got played. You take one breath, two, and do your best to stuff all this emotion down where it belongs. “I’ll take that under advisement,” you say coolly.

Karkat scowls at you. “No, you’ll go tell John how you feel _right now_ or I will make it my personal mission to make the rest of your time on this godforsaken rock complete and utter hell.”

“Jesus, why are you so invested?” You’re annoyed and a little quietly pleased by his insistence. Mostly annoyed though.

Karkat heaves an epic sigh and the look he gives you is a tired one. “Because you’re my friend, stupid.”

Oh. Well shit, now you feel like an even bigger bag of dicks for being such a temperamental jerk. “Look Karkat, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Honest. It’s just--” You sigh. “It isn’t that simple.”

“Only because you’re making it difficult.” He opens the door and points imperiously. “Go.”

He’s not going to let you out of this, you realize. Worse, you think he might even have a point. What’s the worst that could happen in the likely event that John isn’t totally homogay for you? You might weird him out a little, but you’ve been best bros forever. He isn’t going to friend-dump you over something like this, and at this point it’d probably be a relief to get it all off your chest, even if you’re pretty sure you’re going to crash and burn.

Basically, you’re a Strider and it is time for you to man the fuck up. “Yeah, okay.”

Karkat just stares at you for a second, like he wasn’t expecting it to be that easy. “Right. Good,” he says gruffly. “You waiting for an invitation signed in blood, or what?”

“Well shit, that’d be _nice_ , but we’re a bunch of uncivilized heathens out here so I don’t really expect the courtesy.” Karkat just rolls his eyes, grabs you by the arm and drags you out of your own room like the rude little bitch he is. And right, okay, maybe you’re stalling a little. “Wish me luck.”

Karkat does no such thing, leaning against the wall with a snort and watching you intently. Jesus, he is just going to stand there and watch like a mother sending her tyke off to the first day of kindergarten. You very pointedly wander away with the most casually unhurried gait you can muster. Shit practically qualifies as a _mosey_.

At least he doesn’t follow you.

You find John in the library as promised, sprawled upside down on one of the chairs and looking terminally bored. The instant he sees you he lights up like an excited puppy and flies right out of the chair--literally-- pulling a sweet little loop before landing on his feet and grinning at you. “Hi Dave!”

“Sup.” Okay, he looks a little _too_ happy to see you, and you can’t help but sweep the room for obvious booby traps. A bored Egbert is a dangerous Egbert. You don’t see anything suspicious besides John, and it only now occurs to you to wonder just how much Karkat had told John before he came to shout at you.

Crap.

Although if he had and John was still in such a good mood, that was encouraging, right? “I wanted to talk to you about something.” Ha, you don’t even sound nervous at all.

Because you’re not nervous.

Obviously.

“Oh?” John rocks forward on his toes a bit, edging into your personal space and grinning like the grand-prize winner in a Cheshire Cat competition. “What about?” Either he knows something’s up, or he’s about to pie you. Could go either way with John, honestly.

Okay. Moment of truth. You are going to put on your big boy pants and tell John how you feel, preferably without sounding like a preteen girl. You will be smooth, matter-of-fact. You will not lose your cool if he-- hey, what? John puts the kibosh on your mental pep talk by pushing your shades up on top of your head. He fists his hands in your collar and all you manage is a, “Dude, what--” before all coherent thought grinds to screeching halt.

John Egbert is kissing you.

It’s close-mouthed and chaste, nothing more than his lips pressing gently against yours, and you’re sure nothing in your life has ever been so perfect. You make a soft sound that’ll probably be embarrassing later, leaning into him and thinking maybe it’s not so bad that he’s taller than you are.

It doesn’t last long, and when he pulls back his smile has lost its manic edge, turning into something small and soft that makes your heart do alarming, fluttery things. All you can do is blink, and he says, “You were taking too long.”

You lick your lips. John’s eyes track the movement and suddenly your knees feel a little wobbly. Christ. Apparently you stepped into the Twilight Zone when you weren’t looking. It takes you a second to find your voice and when you do it comes out embarrassingly rusty. “Hell, Egbert. That was pretty suave. I’m swooning over here.”

His eyes catch yours, dorky grin back in place. Thank god. You don’t think you’re equipped to deal with John staring at your lips just yet. “I have my moments!”

“So I take it Karkat tattled?” you ask, and this time your voice is almost kinda mostly normal.

John looks a little embarrassed. “Yeah. I mean, he told me what he thought was going on, and when I think back it’s obvious you were acting a little. Um. Jealous.” He ducks his head a little and watches you through his fringe, like it only just occurred to him to feel shy _after_ macking on you.

Obvious? You were not obvious, you were subtle as hell. “Lies and slander. I was so cool I was beyond chill. Shit was so ice cold you could have dropped my ass in the fiery infernos of--”

“Dave.”

You swallow your nonsense and eye John thoughtfully. He looks pleased and amused and it suddenly clicks that _he_ kissed _you_ and that means you probably have nothing to worry about. “Right.” You clear your throat a little. “So I have a giant homocrush on you.”

John’s eyebrows creep up and you can see him biting down on a smile. “Giant?”

“Enormous.”

“Humongous?”

_“Gargantuan._ I am downright pining over here.” You throw your hands wide. “The size of my homocrush can only be measured on the scale of lovestruck twelve year-old girls stretched out into the infinite, each doodling little hearts in pink glitter pens in their diary.”

John’s trying very hard to stifle his giggles behind his hand, but it’s not really working. “That’s a pretty big homocrush.”

“Ten year-old me had no idea what he was getting into,” you say with a grave nod.

You can actually pinpoint the exact moment where John’s brain-train derails. The humor wipes clean off his face and his eyes go wide. _“Ten?”_

Goddammit. Way to wreck the lighthearted atmosphere, Dave. No cookie for you. You shrug and hope John won’t make an issue out of it. “No big.”

He’s looking at you all sad and soulful and no, crap, things had been going to _well_. “Dave, I had no idea.”

You sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that apparently this is a conversation you are going to have. “Dude, that was kind of the point. I’d probably have had a meltdown if you figured me out, mister ‘I am not a homosexual.’”

John’s expression wobbles alarmingly, and shit shit oh shit, that was the wrong thing to say. “Whoa, hey. If you turn on the waterworks I swear to god we are going to have words.” You grab his shoulders and haul him in for a rough hug, because he looks like maybe he needs it and because you cannot handle looking at distressed John. His hands fist in your shirt and you lean your head against his. “It’s okay, honest. You aren’t responsible for my shit, and no one expects you to be a mind reader. That’s Rose.”

“I am the worst friend,” John mutters against your shoulder. You pat his back awkwardly.

“You’re the _best_ friend. Even if you were like, ‘Sorry Dave, I am so flattered that a cool guy like you would ever be interested in a mega-dork like me, but I just don’t want your dick.’” John snickers and you can’t help but feel a little smug. “You’d still be the best friend I ever had. Hands down, no contest.”

John pulls back far enough to look at you, but doesn’t let go of your shirt. He cocks his head a little in a serious, considering way that makes you want to fidget. Or at least put your shades back on your nose. His fingers loosen and trace their way up your chest and over your collarbones, ghosting over jaw and cheeks until he’s holding your face in his hands. You are doing your level best not to melt and fucking failing, because god _damn_ you are so in love with this kid that you’d be terrified if there was any room for it.

“At the risk of stroking your already inflated ego,” he says eventually, “I think I would have to be really, really stupid to turn you down.”

You shoot for a smirk but you’re almost positive you’re rocking something a lot closer to a dopey grin. “I’m inclined to agree.” John laughs and kisses you again, and you’re positive that today is the best day of your life.


End file.
